


baby teeth

by kogaritsu



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Drowning, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, M/M, headcanon heavy, idk i read meteor impact in march and never again, if i got their dynamic wrong im sorry, takes place like. 2-4 years before canon, this doesnt have to be madakana im just tagging that way so its easier to find, this is a vent piece im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogaritsu/pseuds/kogaritsu
Summary: To have loved and been lost to the sea, Kanata couldn’t resist allowing his feet, still trying to regain traction, slip on the wet sand. He sank like a wrecked ship, discarded just like the sea foam gathered in the creases of his clothes. Shattered seashells gnashed at his exposed skin like broken teeth, and Kanata pondered how much he’d have to bleed to sleep through the worst of it.





	baby teeth

**Author's Note:**

> been feeling really rough lately

Sea foam clung to the fabric of Kanata’s pants, soaked through and heavy when the water retreated in preparation for another wave. As soon as it was gone, he missed it, tempted to move closer and allow the water to tarnish the thin material of his shirt as well. So he did. It was cold against his dry skin, though it did very little to rouse him from his foggy state of mind. A little farther couldn’t possibly hurt, could it? It couldn’t, he thought, since he’d spent so much time in the water already.

The first time a wave washed over Kanata’s head, he felt a little bit scared. It was only natural to panic when he couldn’t breathe, so he held his breath through the next one and savored the taste of sea salt on his mouth. It was both familiar and not, different when it carried the weight of his desires, different than the way it tasted on his lips after ceremonies. If he really thought about it, sea salt tasted better when he was alone. Everything tasted better when he was alone, however, seasoned by a sense of freedom. 

Sitting up to his eyes in the water made his hair fan along the surface like a character in a movie; Kanata giggled to himself hard enough to swallow a few mouthfuls. The stars reflected between rippling waves, showing him the milky way in short snapshots, making him wish he knew to find constellations. Absently, he wondered which incarnation arranged them, wondered if one day he’d learn to care enough to rearrange them himself. He closed his eyes as another wave rolled past his head, opening them to find clouds obscuring his view. Blowing all of his lung capacity out his nose, Kanata lied back until his head touched the sand, listening to the waves crashing into the sand. It was soothing in a dangerous way, lulling him like a natural lullaby. 

His mother’s voice wormed through his mind, warning him to never go into the water alone; he was far too important to be lost to hungry fish and the hungrier sea. The sea beckoned him though, begging him to come closer. There was no choice in the silent request, and Kanata slipped further into the waves, standing up on his toes to bob over the surface.

He’d certainly gone too far out, but the sand under his toes kept him grounded, even when the tide came in and knocked him off of them. Water went up his nose and down his throat when he instinctively inhaled; coughing only made the wildfire pain worse. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel the ocean floor anymore. His eyes blinked open, staring at the blurry smear of moonlight over him and pleading for help. She didn’t do a damn thing, watching vacantly as he was dragged further and further into his own element, clawing at his own throat as if it’d uncover gills. Moving was hard underwater, fingers unfurling from his skin in slow motion and grabbing at nothing. Childlike instincts told him to curl in on himself, a defense from bullies that did nothing when he was already submerged. Sand ground against his bare feet, stinging when he was moved again and the scrapes were licked over by salt water. Whimpers of pain and distress were consumed by the roar of the sea, distant in Kanata’s ears like faraway whale calls.

Distress aside, the water was nice, embracing him the way his family could have but elected against. He didn’t wade out to become part of the sea, but it would be such a pleasant end for the monstrous Shinkai child, wouldn’t it? To have loved and been lost to the sea, Kanata couldn’t resist allowing his feet, still trying to regain traction, slip on the wet sand. He sank like a wrecked ship, discarded just like the sea foam gathered in the creases of his clothes. Shattered seashells gnashed at his exposed skin like broken teeth, and Kanata pondered how much he’d have to bleed to sleep through the worst of it. Salt scratched down his windpipe when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, and yet it still hurt less than the air in his bedroom.

It wasn’t that Kanata was unhappy living on land, he just couldn’t bear to live copilot to unyielding numbness.

The water was cold, but Kanata felt warm, tingling as his vision slurred into nothingness. It was as eerie as it was nice.

But then it was gone and Kanata was colder than he’d ever been before, chest screaming as the water was yanked back. Low tide hit in the form of Mikejima Madara, dragging Kanata away from his happy ending. Mikejima’s hands, warm enough to burn, didn’t stop at pulling him out of the water. They compressed his chest until Kanata’s ribs cracked under their impact and lungs expelled the water they were holding. Coughing up water _hurt_, and Kanata used his limited mobility to scramble blindly away from Mikejima, unable to find words. Anguished screams took up his side of the argument they weren’t having, echoing uselessly with no one else around to hear.

His strength was sapped, knees to unstable to hold him when he tried to move. He was blind, unable to pry open his eyes, and he was so, so tired. Mikejima didn’t have to chase him to catch him, crawling was more than enough. All of him was warm, and Kanata was repulsed by the way it made him melt. He couldn’t hang on very long, succumbing to a much lesser darkness that loomed over him. 

Kanata woke up in his kitchen, wrapped in a few towels with his head hanging over the edge of the sink. When he made a sound of irritation, warm fingers skated down his spine, unpleasant in how kind they were. The “shh” that followed them would have sounded condescending were it not dripping with concern. The faucet poured into the sink next to his face for a moment, presumably warming up. When it was, presumably, done, Mikejima reached over Kanata’s head to move it, shielding his eyes in case they were open. They weren’t. 

Mikejima’s fingernails pressed hard enough to get rid of the sand stuck to his scalp, gentle otherwise as he scrubbed the smell of the sea away. Kanata hated hot water and hated the disgustingly considerate lukewarm water that rinsed shampoo from his hair to the sink drain. He hated the careful fingers that smoothed over his forehead every so often, gathering stray suds away from his eyes. Bile rose in his throat when those fingers wrung his hair out, never yanking, and then dried it with the same gentility. Like a mother, his brain supplied uselessly.

Blinking his eyes open didn’t work, and he found himself drifting again, annoyance unconsciously pacified by the smell of honey shampoo. The agony didn’t fade when he passed out, aching in both his chest and head. Perhaps those before him were punishing him for trying to follow them too closely.

Waking up in his futon was an event like no other. On one hand, he was dry and safe and comfortable, and on the other he considered that Mikejima changed him like a toddler while he was unconscious. Confliction churned in his stomach, only worsening the nausea that’d been descending upon him all night. Rolling onto his stomach offered a pretty good view of Mikejima asleep by the door. He looked smaller than ever, curled up like a dead roach. Kanata didn’t bother to worry if he was cold. 

Sleep came easier, but he’d never confess to feeling safer with someone watching over him.

**Author's Note:**

> socials are mihouji as per usual


End file.
